


#12 Night Out

by aerye



Category: due South
Genre: Crossdressing, Drag Queen, M/M, Other, Transgender
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-18
Updated: 2010-10-18
Packaged: 2017-10-12 18:28:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/127776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aerye/pseuds/aerye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ray Kowalski takes Gloria on a date.</p>
            </blockquote>





	#12 Night Out

He saw Vecchio before Vecchio saw him—he was sitting in front of the dressing room counter he shared with two of the other "girls." Vecchio had just stepped out the dress he'd worn for his last number—some dark blue slinky thing with padded shoulders out the wazoo—and wrapped a silk robe around himself, covering up a red silk bra and garter belt that looked new. He had on new tits, too, soft silicone numbers with raised nipples that jutted against the soft red cloth, and for a second Ray had a picture in his head of Vecchio and Fraser making out on his bed, Fraser's big hand skimming the top of Vecchio's garter belt and his mouth wrapped around one of those fake nipples.

Vecchio obviously hadn't noticed him come into the bar halfway through his number because it seemed like a complete surprise when he looked up and saw Ray standing uncomfortably in the doorway. Ray lifted a hand awkwardly, freezing when Vecchio went white as a sheet.

"Oh, my god." Vecchio's voice cracked, except that it was his girl voice, so it was higher and softer. "Fraser—" He was halfway out of his chair before Ray realized what Vecchio was thinking, and he could've kicked himself but it was too late at that point to stop him from leaping to the wrong conclusion.

"He's fine." Ray stepped forward and spoke quickly. "He's fine. Ice Queen snagged him for embassy party duty and he said you were already on-stage when he called."

"Shit." Vecchio sat down again slowly and took a deep breath, but when he tried to pick up a tissue his hand was shaking. "Shit."

"Sorry. Sorry." Kowalski felt like three different kinds of idiot. "I would have just called but I know you—I mean, Gloria—I mean—" Fuck. "Well, I know you and Fraser—"

Fraser and Vecchio had a standing date on Tuesday nights. If Ray was still having trouble getting used to Vecchio with false tits, Fraser had a kink on for Gloria bigger than the Northwest Territories. Tuesday nights, Fraser met Vecchio after his show and took him out for dinner or coffee or whatever, and then they came home and went to bed in Fraser's room. Ray stayed home Tuesday nights and watched the fights, and went to bed early.

"I know you guys usually have a date and I just thought I'd—" Stupid fucking idea.

"You'd what?" Vecchio was looking up at him suspiciously.

He shrugged, feeling surly. "I just didn't want you to be all disappointed is all, okay? I just thought I'd come by and take you—and we'd have dinner, is all."

"Oh." And Jesus, Vecchio didn't have to look at him like he'd suddenly started speaking French or something. "Right." He seemed to gather himself together and reached to take off his wig, the blond one. "Well, give me a minute to scrape off the paint and I'll—" His voice had deepened and he sounded like Vecchio again.

"No." Shit. Awkward, awkward. "No, I mean, I'd take—Well if you wanted to go as Gloria that's okay with me."

Vecchio froze. "That's _okay_ with you," he finally said sarcastically. "Jeez, don't hurt yourself, Kowalski, trying to be all open-minded."

"Look, if you'd rather not—"

"No." Vecchio looked at him in the mirror and it was weird, because it was Vecchio's face but the reflection was backwards, and so it was Vecchio and it was Gloria and it wasn't either of them. "No, just—let me get dressed," Vecchio said, and it was the Gloria voice again, and he didn't know if he should stay or go, because he was used to Vecchio naked but he knew you weren't supposed to watch girls get dressed. Still, he didn't know what else to do and so he stood there while Vecchio took off the stage face and put on a new one, but he looked away when Vecchio dropped the robe and started shimmying into a short black sheath that hit his legs just above the knees. One of the other "girls" came in; she wasn't one of the ones Ray knew—not that he knew many of them, not like Fraser, who could probably give name, rank, and serial number on all of them. Ray was glad it wasn't Deidre—she didn't like him much and didn't mind letting him know it.

"Okay, I'm ready." How Vecchio could wear heels that high without falling flat on his face still confused the hell out of Ray but he was, and he wasn't even wobbling as he leaned over the counter and switched a few things from a bright silver bag into a slim black leather clutch. Guy or girl, Vecchio knew fashion. "Where are we going?"

And shit, Ray hadn't really even thought about that, and off the top of his head he couldn't think of any place he could take Vecchio dressed like that, not without causing heads to turn. He saw Vecchio's mouth twist unhappily and realized he'd screwed up again.

"That's okay," Vecchio said. "There's a place down the block. A lot of the girls go there—it's not a big deal."

They went out the front. Vecchio stopped a few of times to say goodbye and Ray waited awkwardly—a couple of them asked about Fraser and he knew they were wondering if Vecchio had gotten himself a new boyfriend. He knew it was stupid to resent that they didn't know Vecchio was his as much as he was Fraser's, since he hardly ever bothered to show his face here, but still—"Jesus, you'd think I was invisible. It's not like I'm not—y'know."

Vecchio looked at him silently and then looked away. His heels clicked quietly on the sidewalk. "But you're not, are you Kowalski? Not here anyway. Not with me," and it was his girl voice and Ray knew what he meant but he didn't really know what to say to that, so he didn't say anything.  


* * *

  
They came out of the alley just half a block up. There were three of them, drunk—you could smell it on them, cheap beer and alcohol.

"Hey, look at Mr. and Mr. Faggot," said the biggest one. He had fat cheeks and piggy little eyes.

The one in front laughed. "I think you mean Mr. _and Mrs._ Faggot," he said, pointing a finger toward Vecchio.

Ray felt Vecchio go still next to him. He knew Vecchio had his badge on him, same as Ray, but there was no way they would show them—Vecchio's biggest nightmare was that someone would sniff out a connection between Det. Ray Vecchio and the club, or Gloria. Although with these guys, it was hard to know if even a badge would stop them, if the cop holding it was queer.

"Listen guys, you don't want the trouble you're asking for here," he said, figuring he'd give them a chance, even though he knew from the look of them that trouble was coming right at them.

"Ah, the ladies don't want any trouble," said the third one, a mean looking little guy.

The big one laughed. "Too bad. 'Cause we don't like queers. And you?" He sneered and pointed at Ray. "You and the _bitch_ are fucking queer."

"Shit," he heard Vecchio mutter.

"Take off," he said quietly.

"What?"

"I said take off. Get the hell out of here. I'll handle this."

"Like I'm leaving you alone with these three assholes?"

"Jesus, would you just—? Whoa, listen to me, assholes," Ray warned, stepping between Vecchio and the three goons as they moved closer, "don't make me hurt you."

"Hey, Frank—you scared? The fairy's gonna hurt you."

"I'm gonna hurt _her_ ," and Frank was apparently the big one—he was certainly the stupid one. He came at Ray with one fist raised and left himself wide open, jaw and gut. Ray scored a hit twice—fucking amateur. He felt the "oof" as much as he heard it. He heard Vecchio swearing, and turned fast to see that the mean looking little one had taken a run at him. Those goddamn heels had handicapped him; he'd fallen off them and the fucker had him backed up against a brick wall, one arm across his neck and choking him, the other fondling his tits.

"Hey, Eddie," Shorty called out to his friend, laughing, "they almost feel real."

Ray felt like the top of his head was gonna explode. He turned and gave Frankie another double delight, gut and ribs, and then finished it off with a quick jab to the jaw. The asshole had no staying power—his head went back and he went down, just like the sack of shit he was. Ray whipped around to go help Vecchio just in time to see him to lift his knee and give Shorty a good hit to his nuts. Mr. Height Impaired gave a gasp and his eyes bugged out of his head—all it took was a shove from Vecchio to send him sprawling to the ground.

Ray grinned at Vecchio, who put a hand to his throat but nodded that he was okay, and turned back. He was mad, and feeling mean, and he knew it showed on his face. "You want some, too?" he asked Eddie, who had been moving in to throw in his two cents but now backed up cautiously. "You in for a round? 'Cause I got plenty left over for you, asshole." Ray beckoned him with his fingers. "C'mon. Let's see if you're any better than your pussy boyfriends."

"Ray—" Vecchio's girl voice coming from behind him.

"No, no. Big man here wants to show he's better than a couple of queers—let's see what he's got."

"Listen, we don't want any trouble," said Eddie, reddening when he realized they'd reached the déjà vu part of the program. "Frankie and Carl here just got ahead of themselves, okay? They just got overly excited. No harm, no foul. You and the—" He hesitated, looking at Vecchio. "You and lady are fine, right?"

"No thanks to these geniuses," Ray said, nodding toward the two on the ground, who were groaning and looking reluctant about getting to their feet anywhere in his vicinity.

"Frankie. Carl. Get the fuck up, you morons." Eddie looked at Ray again. "I'll take 'em home, get 'em sobered up again. They won't bother nobody else."

"Yeah, you do that."

Frankie lumbered to his feet and frowned at Ray, then shot Vecchio a nasty look. "Fucking freak," he muttered under his breath.

Eddie swore. "Frankie, you fuckwad—"

"Listen, you fucker." Ray got up into Frankie's face, grinning and grabbing his shirt when the stooge tried to back up. "It takes real balls to wear heels, Frankie. Bigger balls than you'll ever have. You take a real good look at that lady over there because she's more of a man than you'll ever be, you sorry ass piece of crap." He shoved him away. "Just get the fuck outta here."

Ray didn't take his eyes off of them until they reached a truck down at the end of the street, where the three of them piled in and drove off. He could feel the adrenalin still sizzling through his veins as he turned around. "You okay?" he asked her, watching her lean a hand against the wall as she put those ridiculous heels back on.

"I'm fine," she said, frowning down at her ankle. "Except I got a run in one of my stockings." She nodded toward the diner at the end of the block. "You still wanna have dinner?"

He looked at her. She'd never be beautiful. But— "You like dancing?"

"Excuse me?"

"I asked, you like dancing? I know a place—good music, decent food, small dance floor." He cleared his throat. "It is supposed to be a date and all, right?"

Gloria took his arm. A small smile crept over her face. "Sounds great."

**Author's Note:**

> Unofficial bit of the Gloriaverse created by china shop and sageness. Used with permission.


End file.
